


Recruitment Drive

by Yueira



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Gen, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yueira/pseuds/Yueira
Summary: After the events at Megacity One, Dredd finds the precinct understaffed, and pays a friend a quick visit.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saheli](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Saheli).



> Something I wrote after watching the movie, and I thought that Dredd's next move would be to look for friendly faces. Might update with more chapters if feedback is positive :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

After speaking to Head Judge, Dredd walked to his bike. Even if pangs of pain radiated out from his wound, he gave no sign, ignoring them grimly; a firm scowl still plastered on his face.

Kicking the high-powered vehicle in gear, he sped off, well within speed limits, though vaguely aware that he needed to get to _the_ medical centre before he eventually bled out internally. The hyper-sealing glue was not the most definitive of healing implements, though good for a quick combat fix. Sutures would be needed for the through-and-through he had received from the rogue judge’s bullet.

He entered the building through its main entrance, ignoring the few people in the parking lots. This medical facility was the largest for a few megacities, situated in a well-lit compound with few surrounding structures. He scanned his pass at the computerised terminals, peered at screens, before selecting a familiar name among the listed doctors on duty. Several human orderlies tried their best to not stare at the uncommon sight of a Judge in their medical centre. They were usually recycled, pronounced D-O-A or sent for further treatment at the medical facility down at the Headquarters.

A tinny voice pierced the air. “Because you have chosen emergency care, you have been moved to the front of the queue, Judge.” The machine whirred audibly to the mostly empty room. This one sounded as if it needed a maintenance check soon. Three citizens to his left stirred nervously as his gaze passed over them.

A medical droid approached him on its _segs_. Dredd followed it, a newly-approved medical advancement, created to replace lacking numbers among the trained orderlies, as more rigorous tests were applied to those looking to join the profession. He had heard that these were now being tested, and were perfectly capable even when it came to performing minor surgeries. Technologically, they were a marvel, but also feared by the population at large, who still opted for the human touch in their non-mechanical doctors.

The room he was shown was not a large one, but it was spotless. In the middle of the room was a large table, on which patients like him were to lie on.

Dredd eyed it, but opted to remain standing. He removed his helmet, placing it on the table’s silver surface.

 “The doctor will need you to remove your reinforced body armour,” the tinny voice rose from the _medidroid_ , which began to move towards him, perhaps to offer some assistance.

Reluctantly, Dredd undid the buckles and zips, wincing visibly as the dried glue and metal chips pulled on his raw, torn skin. The droid took initiative at that, and swiftly picked the offending inorganic material away. Dredd felt a slight chill of unease as the cool air seemed to heat up around his wound. Was he already developing an infection? He waved it away and began undoing the pants of his uniform.

“Would you like to be given something for the pain, judge?”

Dredd shook his head, grunting as he removed the rest of his gear. He left his shorts on, knowing that he was not required to disrobe entirely. Especially not in front of _it_.

“The doctor will be in shortly. As it appears that you are in no immediate danger, I will leave you.” The droid pedalled backwards, turning and situating itself next to the tray of operating equipment in the corner.

A few moments later, the door slid open again and a garbed person entered. “Analysis?” The way that word was pronounced was crisp and familiar.

“The standard issue stasis glue and flesh staples for field use are currently working, doctor, however, as recommended, they should be removed and the wound sutured. Preliminary scans show some tearing of muscle, but no major organs or arteries have been damaged.”

“Has he been given anaesthesia?”

“The judge refused, doctor.”

“Very well. Prep the lasers, please.” The doctor turned to the table of equipment, turning her back. “You will have to lie down for the procedure, judge.”

Dredd could hear a faint whirring hum as he got onto the table. He lay back and stared up into the masked face, light glinting off the goggles and surgical gear.

“Lasers are prepped, as are the usual implements. Will there anything be anything else, doctor?”

“No, thank you, Beta.”

“You are welcome, doctor. I will return to my other duties.”  There was a whirr from the doors and the droid exited. Dredd gave a small sigh, which cut short as gloved fingers touched his bare abdomen.

“I see that you are still playing the role of the perennial badass, judge.”

“That’s your opinion.” He stared stoically at the ceiling.

He heard slight, dismissive exhale. “I will begin removing the field kit glue from your wound. You may feel some heat, but it will be quick and largely painless. But before we begin, I will need you to raise both arms and cough.”

The silence in the room was palpable.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Fortunately, yes. But I will need your arms to be stretched taut above your head. Skin, you know.”

He obliged, and closed his eyes, avoiding what he knew was a cool gaze, free of pity. The initial stinging pain grew and soon, the Judge found himself gritting his teeth, which happened frequently, but never in pain.

“ _Drokkin’_ hurts,” he grimaced and opened his eyes by a fraction.

“You refused anaesthesia, Joseph. It’ll be over soon. Well, relatively. I just started on the sutures.”

After what felt like an eternity, Dredd felt the doctor begin the cleanup, wiping the area clean with a cool solution.

“Well, we’re all done then. I will recommend a week of rest and possibly a relook with your station’s doctors.”

The judge said nothing, sitting up and began pulling on his torn undershirt.

He grunted as the injured muscles moved. “And you volunteer there, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Perhaps around midday, Friday,” came the non-committal reply. She had her back turned, carefully replacing the lasers. She poked at another digital display, and a disc-like droid popped out from under the table, and its path of travel disinfected the floor.

He winced as he got off the table. “My shift ended an hour ago, Dredd. I was supposed to leave _five_ minutes after you picked my name off the list.”

“But you took on my case anyway.”

“No reason not to. Who would risk ignoring a judge?” She paused, turning to look at him. “Why did you even come here?”

He ignored that question. “Do you require transport back to your quarters?”

He heard her sigh. “Are you even in any condition to ride?”

“That’s why I refused your painkillers.”

“Give me five minutes. I’ll drive.”

\---

With his helmet on, Dredd knew that he was an imposing sight in the parking lot of the medical center. The skinheads who had been loitering outside the facility retreated hastily to another corner of the street. The whirring sound of mechanical doors revealed the doctor, now dressed in reasonable civilian attire, if a little formal. He gave her a brief once-over, before muttering. “You took the full five minutes.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment.” She sounded vaguely irritated.

“It isn’t. You used to be ready in three.” She was approaching a muted black vehicle, evidently, hers.

“Just get on, Badass. Send your ride to the precinct.”

\---

The drive was quick and silent. Neither of them spoke, an occurrence that was usual between them. They pulled up at the precinct’s quarters, and his bike soon arrived, parking in the lot that had been assigned to Dredd.

“Consider this my newly improved aftercare service.”

“And not to mention that you live in the same precinct too.”

He heard the familiar long-suffering sigh. “Dredd, you’re the reason why my bedside manner is shitty.”


	2. A Follow-up

A week after Dredd’s visit to the medical centre, he walked into her shift at headquarters, face obscured by his helmet, ignoring the medical droid’s attempts at ascertaining his condition. The doctor did not look up from her tablet, reviewing the scans the droid had submitted on the judge.

“Judge Dredd, how surprising, usually we have to practically hunt you down for an update.” Finally setting aside the rectangular device in her hands, she patted the bed that stood in the middle of the room.

The judge’s grimness remained as he stood, and he seemed to ignore the amusement in her eyes. He folded his arms as the doors slid shut.

A moment passed and the doctor broke the silence, unimpressed by his steely demeanour.

“Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”

“Trained professionals.” She could almost see the narrowing of his gaze as the words left his thin lips.

She allowed a smirk to form on her lips, knowing that it would annoy him. “And I am as professional as they come, Joseph. It’s not like you to be so _unprecise.”_

“You told me that you would re-enlist.”

Turning to grab a release form off her desk, she sighed. “I said I would consider, and I _still_ am thinking about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” There was only a growing irritation in the man’s tone.

She kept her voice steady. The man was gritting his teeth again, and he would not intimidate her. “Well, I have a life to pack up and leave behind. It’s not as ea—”

The harsh growl from his throat forced her attention. “You heard about the media’s attacks on the Academy? Over twenty judges were found to be compromised.”

Regrettably, she had not.

\--- 

She was regretting her decision even as she left the Academy, hugging herself tightly when the wind whipped up the dust around her feet, gritting her teeth as she walked to her automobile. This was going to be an extremely unpleasant night, but it had to be done in person.

She owed him that much.

Civilian life had its benefits, but it was also full of trappings like the one named Maximillian Reeve.


	3. Rookie

“Max, I – ”

“—and you said yes?” She had been listening out for the note of anger, and it lingered in his face even when his words ended. The creases at the corner of his eyes had latched onto the darkness of the room. Energy seemed to have been sapped out of him, and he looked a far cry from the man who had greeted her at the double doors of his upscale apartment.

“You think you would have told Dredd _'no'_?” Feeling the bitter smile curve up the side of her face, she put the glass of bourbon to her lips, feigning a sip. The liquid wet her lips, and the smoky aroma remained behind as she set the drink down again. Discreetly, she wiped her mouth with a casual brush of her fingers. The liquid amber sloshed around in the fine crystal.

“I know this whole drokkin’ Megacity thinks it needs _you_ but…”

“ _Such_ little faith in m—”

“Not—not you. This,” he gestured at the window that overlooked the entertainment district below. “This—this city. It takes and takes, devours and not even bones are spat out at the end. You and I both know this, we pick up the people who have been mowed down, stitched them back up, sent them back out. We find their names in the news. The Obits.”

She took in the simple, but expensive fixtures of the elegant kitchen, the rack of liquor that stood in the corner, before returning her attention to him. He was a man who knew comfort, and would pay for it.

She could never talk sense to him when he got into one of these moods. So she put her untouched drink aside, reaching for her jacket. As much as she dreaded (ha) the life ahead, there was no more time for delaying the inevitable. “You know my story. I grew up training to _be_ a judge. To hold a lawgiver in my hands, to walk the streets, to protect cits, to kill if necessary. They were my entire life, up until three years ago. And now, the Justice Department _needs—_ ”

“Not as much as I do.” He was suddenly on one knee, gazing up into her eyes with the look of a madman, a manic energy coursing as he extended a small delicate box in front of her. 

She said a silent prayer for the foresight of not imbibing any of her ex-lover's alcohol, heady and rare though they were. 

“I… am sorry, Max.”

\---

Retraining was over in two hours, and Dredd personally oversaw her physical. A cit’s life had not dulled much of her reflexes, and he saw a tension in her shoulders that shrugged off easily as soon she threw the first punch. The takedown was expected, and a vicious flurry of kicks dispatched the others the test required to be thrown at her. Range-testing apparently also went well, her aim had not deteriorated, shooting no “civilians” in the process of rescuing the ‘hostage’. Some would have called it 'perfect', Dredd preferred 'acceptable'.

“Told you it would be quick.”

“Get changed, you hit the streets in six minutes, rookie.”

“I _already_ earned my badge, Dredd,” she called after him, sending a ripple through the fresh-faced judges, who had gathered nearby to watch the spectacle. 'Speedruns' were not usual for the institution, the focus on discipline was paramount, in spite of their desperate numbers.

“Three years ago. Now, you’re a rookie.”


End file.
